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  “I see the concern in your face. We will help in whatever way we can.”

  He sighed. “I understand, thank you, Mr. Guitard.”

  “Call me Jean.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s head to the hotel.”

  As they followed the man out of the airport to the parking lot, Naomi leaned closer to him. He looked into her eyes.

  “It’ll work out,” she mouthed.

  He nodded, but couldn’t muster the confident smile. His stomach churned with the agonizing doubts.

  The ride out from Port-au-Prince was like an obstacle course as the vehicles and pedestrians moved as one. Despite the bleak conditions interwoven in the landscape, the children waved at their car.

  “We have about an hour’s ride into the countryside.”

  “We’ll just sit back and enjoy the beautiful terrain.” Naomi patted his knee. “You know, you should really try to live every second of this experience. You can only control what you’ve been able to get so far. The rest will happen if it’s meant to be.”

  “Oh, no, you’ve taken the Reba-Frannie pill, now sounding philosophical and darn right.”

  “Our women tend to do that to us.” Jean laughed.

  Their trek into the country turned into a bumpy ride with lots of sound effects emanating from the car. Zack wondered if he’d have to push the compact vehicle to the final destination when a strange cough and sputter took over the engine. They shimmied up a steep incline. Just when he thought they were going to have to solicit help from the bystanders, who found the situation humorous, they reached the peak and then coasted for the descent.

  Naomi’s reassuring pat on his knee turned into a white-knuckle hold for dear life to his thigh. Her nails dug in as they jostled from side to side in the little car.

  “We’re almost there,” Jean called out. His entire being radiated calm.

  “Thank goodness,” Zack offered. He willed his stomach to stay firm and not force them to pull to the side of the road.

  True to his word, Jean entered a village made up of a few buildings and homes scattered over the mountainside. Again, kids emerged full of curiosity.

  The hotel looked more like a bed-and-breakfast as they entered. From the outside the building had an understated quality with nondescript color and style. All the energy had gone to decorating the interior. Zack felt the tension ease down his shoulders under the ceiling fans that stirred the tropical breeze.

  “Welcome to St. Tropez Guest House. I’m Melinda Johnson. U.S.-bred, but a Haiti convert.” A tanned woman with shockingly red hair curled as tight as a poodle’s stood in front of them. She was dressed in the local cotton fabric and woven sandals.

  Zack introduced himself and then Naomi.

  “Now that you will be taken care of, I will leave. But we’ll be back this evening for dinner.” Jean shook their hands and left.

  “Let me show you to your room.”

  “Oh, we have one room?”

  “Yes. Your assistant told me that you needed one room. Was there a mistake?”

  “What assistant?” Zack didn’t have his personal assistant work on any part of his personal business.

  “Brent, lovely man. He is a real charmer.”

  “Yes, he is.” Naomi’s laughter rang out.

  She showed them to their room. A bare-bones furnished room with bed, desk and chair, and chest of drawers. Although the room wouldn’t win awards for interior decorating, it was clean and fresh.

  “Breakfast is from eight to nine-thirty. There is also afternoon tea at three. My room is on the first floor. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

  Zack nodded. He hoped that his stay wouldn’t have to extend to an unbearably long time.

  “May I ask what brought you here? We usually get lots of eco-tourists. We also get couples who are interested in adopting.” She looked expectantly at them.

  “Oh, no. We are here on business.” Naomi smiled.

  “Well, that’s the other possibility.” Melinda seemed disappointed that Naomi hadn’t clarified.

  Zack figured the news of their arrival would have made its way through the village. Chances were probably great that a fantastic story would be created. Maybe they would be mistaken for Hollywood celebrities seeking a baby.

  “Is it okay to walk around?”

  “Oh, yes. Use the same street savvy that you’d use in the States. People tend to forget common sense when they visit here because of the small-town feel.”

  “I have Naomi as my protector. I just have to run faster than her.”

  Melinda threw back her head and screeched a raucous laugh.

  Naomi stood on the porch and took the time to study the lay of the land until Zack joined her. She knew of the dismal statistics in Haiti’s history, but nothing could diminish the rich culture. Although she felt far removed from the bustling capital, the little village seemed to have its fair share of commerce.

  “What are you looking at?” Zack wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her neck.

  “I want to visit the market. I’m sure there’s a wonderful assortment of fruit.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  The marketplace served as the common meeting place for the exchange of news and selling a variety of items. Naomi liked walking through the stalls, haggling with the vendors for the bargain, listening to the latest news. Some people spoke English or French, but the majority spoke in a patois, a language that her high school French couldn’t come close to being of help with.

  “We can’t carry all this stuff back with us. Customs will not allow you to bring produce.” Zack carried the two bags of fruits.

  “Stop complaining. We’re going to have a wonderful fruit salad.”

  “We are?”

  “Oh, look.” Naomi pointed to another vendor. “They’ve got handmade flip-flops.”

  “I sense a shopping spree,” he said.

  “Oh, hush.” Naomi had to admit that she was buying more than necessary. But they had managed to not sit around moping over the fact that Zack’s birth mother hadn’t responded.

  Hours passed touring the island’s stores. “My feet are killing me.” Zack grumbled as the number of bags he held increased.

  “Okay. Your whining is killing the buzz. Anyway, we have to get ready for dinner.”

  “I should have been taking a nap.”

  “How can you sleep at a time like this?” Naomi said excitedly. “There’s so much to see and do. It’s your birth home. Do you feel any connection?”

  “No.”

  Naomi heard the stubborn closure in his tone. His mood was turning and the frustration started to take hold.

  She grabbed his mouth and puckered his lips, before planting a sloppy kiss. “Remember, I love you. I’m here with you, no matter the outcome.”

  He nodded and gave her a small peck.

  A few giggles and heckling interrupted their public moment. Naomi smiled, but hurried on her way.

  “Oh, so now you want to leave.”

  “Just bring the bags, Zack.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  Naomi waited for Zack to finish dressing. He’d grown pensive despite her attempt to keep the mood lighthearted. She suspected that he probably wanted to skip the dinner and wait until tomorrow to see the outcome.

  “Why are we meeting these people? This is Brent’s handiwork.”

  “Actually, I think it makes sense. The orphanage is helping you meet your birth mother. Not only did they take you in, but they are also helping in the journey for you to get the healing that you want.”

  “But I don’t need dinner. We could talk, get it over with and let tomorrow come.”

  Naomi slid off the bed and knelt in front of him. She wanted to see his eyes, into his soul. She wanted to eradicate the fear that grew with every minute that they sat in the room. She placed her hand over his heart, then took his hand and placed it over hers.

  “Listen to me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m
going to be blunt,” Naomi prepared. “Your birth mother coming into your life doesn’t make or break you. I know you’re looking for holes to be filled, but maybe you should look at it as an extra helping of whipped cream, special sauce, whatever. Meeting her will enhance your life but doesn’t take away from it if she chooses not to meet you. When you decided to do this, you did it for you. Not her.”

  “As much as I say that the end result doesn’t matter. It did matter. I had the reunion pictured in my mind to go one way. And only one way. I would be in control. I’d find her and decide if I wanted to meet her. I’d listen to see if there was any regret. Instead, it’s still being determined if I’m a gift or a burden.”

  Naomi rested her forehead against his face. “We’ll get through this.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “We, Zack. Not you. We will get through this.” She kissed his lips, nudging them apart, coaxing them to let her enter to seal the pact between them.

  “Can we make love and skip dinner?” Zack asked, his voice loaded with sexy tension.

  “Nope. We are going to dinner. And then when we come back, we are going to make love.”

  “You want the world, don’t you?”

  “Only if you’re in it.” She ravished his mouth with a long kiss. “I’m hungry, so hurry it up.” She pushed away from him and then turned her attention to the mirror to repair her lip color.

  Zack barely made it through dinner, much less through the night. His tossing and turning couldn’t have helped Naomi getting a good night’s rest, either. Now that he’d made it through the night, he couldn’t wait for the morning to begin. The countdown began for the meeting.

  While he did consider meeting his birth mother as being pivotal, he had come to terms with its significance, thanks to Naomi’s wisdom.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want a big breakfast. I had Melinda make a fruit salad with our goodies from yesterday.” Naomi presented him with a colorful array of fruits.

  He picked a piece of guava and popped the sweet fruit into his mouth. He nodded, appreciating the natural sugary treat on his tongue.

  Making fast work of the breakfast, he was already on the porch waiting when Jean showed up.

  Now to go see where he spent his early childhood. They pulled up in front of a building that looked like a Spanish monastery. The exterior had a fresh coat of paint in a bright pink hue. The trimmings were in violet and the windows were in stark white. The outrageous color worked in an odd sense, since it didn’t make him think of a government-run orphanage.

  “Does any of this come back to you?”

  “Bits and pieces, but everything was a gray color.”

  “I don’t think it was gray on purpose. We recently got a generous donation and used a portion to upgrade parts of the home.” Jean showed them into the building and to the main office.

  “I remember feeling that this place was a palace. There was a woman who would tell me stories at bedtime. She’d tell me that I was a prince who had been left behind to do great things.”

  “We don’t get much change in our staff. Can you describe her?”

  “That was over twenty years ago. She had a small tuft of hair that was gray in the front. Her glasses would sit on the edge of her nose. Her skin was flawless. I used to think that maybe she was my mother but couldn’t tell me.”

  “That was Alayne DaCosta. She was a missionary from Portugal who worked in the home. Unfortunately, she died about ten years ago from a long illness. I still miss her.”

  Zack took a deep breath and exhaled. Life moved on. Maybe that was the lesson—move on.

  “Can you take us on a tour?” Naomi asked. She continued to hold his hand as if sending her strength and willpower to continue onward.

  The tour didn’t last long. The orphanage was not large, considering that the building held not only classrooms, a communal dining room and an industrial-size kitchen, but also space for sleeping rooms, the staff’s quarters and a couple of offices.

  “I feel as though I should take all the children with me,” Zack said.

  “Many people have the same reaction. These children could use good homes, but they are also not lacking, because many of the donations are from private philanthropists. All our children go on to college or a trade school.”

  “Maybe while you meet with your birth mother, I could talk to some of the children?” Naomi turned to Jean.

  “How thoughtful of you,” Jean replied.

  “She’s a basketball star. She’s got stories that can inspire to reach for the stars.”

  “That’s very impressive.”

  “Well, I’m an ex-basketball star. I think this trip has helped to solidify what I want to do with my life going forward. I know in my heart that my professional basketball career will be in my past.”

  Zack admired her fortitude. How had this trip helped him? Right now, he treaded in the deep end, hoping that he could make it to the edge and hang on for dear life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zack sat in the community center that had been predetermined to be the neutral zone. Jean hovered nearby but astutely kept his distance. Naomi had surrounded herself with several older children. Now, after mentally preparing and emotionally gearing up for one o’clock in the afternoon on a Thursday in late October, he sat alone as his heartbeat thudded against his rib cage.

  Maybe he should have brought a book. He’d paced and even dredged up a few tap-dance moves from classes that he’d attended in Washington.

  The clock overhead clicked past the one o’clock hour. He saw Jean look at his watch. The old man’s concern had taken the starch out of his frame. Zack knew better than to dress up in uncomfortable clothing for the occasion. He wanted to be at ease for this waiting game.

  After the second hour passed with no sign, Jean approached him. “I think…we can try again tomorrow.”

  Zack nodded. His throat choked.

  When he returned to the orphanage, he could barely look at Naomi. She stayed with the children a little longer. Grateful for the space, he stayed on safe subjects about Blessed Charity with Jean.

  “I’ll take you back to the hotel whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Jean,” Naomi said. She’d rejoined him quietly.

  “I’ll send another note tonight.”

  “Don’t bother.” Zack kept his gaze straight ahead.

  “Maybe she didn’t get the other notes. She could be ill.”

  “You know who it is, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you would have heard if she was ill or not?”

  “Probably.”

  “I will go back once more and then I’ll return home.”

  Naomi leaned her head on his shoulder. Even she had run out of advice for him.

  Naomi opened her eyes, frowning from the sunlight pouring into the room. “Are you getting out of bed?”

  “Soon.”

  Naomi heard the bad temper in the single word. She prayed that today would have better results. Her heart broke for Zack’s disappointment. She got up to take her shower.

  “You packed.” They hadn’t unpacked, but she noted that his suitcase contained everything, including toiletries.

  “We’re leaving this afternoon.”

  “Oh.” So this was it. One final showdown before he left Haiti. The chances of him returning were slim.

  After she showered and dressed, he did the same. Another bowl of fruit salad served as breakfast before they headed to the orphanage. This time there were no planned activities to hold their attention until the one o’clock hour.

  Naomi spent the time talking to the other children she hadn’t met yesterday. She kept an eye on the time and, when he came into view, on Zack.

  “It’s time,” Jean prompted.

  “I want you with me this time,” Zack said to Naomi.

  “Sure. I’m glad that you’re stepping up to meet your birth mother. I think it’s time that I be the bigger person to reach out to mine.”

  “I’m
here when you’re ready to do so.”

  Together they waited in the community center. Naomi couldn’t stop touching Zack to reassure him. She tried to stay neutral, but seeing him in agony revved up her desire to protect him. Now that it was 2:30, she wanted the name and address of his birth mother. She was willing to shake it out of Jean if necessary.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Zack declared with a tone that defied refusal.

  Jean nodded.

  As they headed toward the door, it opened. Zack halted on the spot. He looked expectantly at the door. A young man stepped into the room. He looked at each one of them before he seemingly gathered his nerve.

  “Is Zack Keathley here?”

  “That’s me.”

  Naomi felt weak in the knees, much less how Zack must feel.

  “I’m Andre Laudat.” The young man cleared his throat. “I believe that we share the same mother.”

  “Is she here?”

  Andre nodded. He walked to the door and pushed it open. Then he nodded before pushing it wider.

  A woman walked in and stood at the boy’s side. She held his arm for support. Her eyes lit on Zack’s with fierce curiosity. Her gaze traveled down his body, sometimes restarting from a certain point to travel down.

  Naomi couldn’t complain. She found herself doing the same to the slender and fashionable woman. The long silence as each side contemplated the other got to her. She strode to the middle and held out her hand. “I’m Zack’s friend, Naomi. Pleased to meet you.”

  The woman had to break her grasp of her son to shake hands. “I’m Lena Laudat.” Her voice had a lilting quality, very cultured. Naomi noticed that her hands were delicately soft and manicured. She’d expected a poor girl who had fallen on bad times. The woman who stood in front of her was well-dressed, definitely in a high-end label. Her features were contoured, delicate. Zack bore some resemblance around the nose and mouth, but the strong shape of his face and those dark intense eyes weren’t reflected in this woman.

  “This is Zack.” Naomi felt like the magician or his assistant unveiling sudden appearance of a work of art.